


What's A Devil to Do?

by Skeleton_Kid



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Dark, Insomnia, Lack of Communication, No Incest, No Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Harm, This isn't a happy fic, Trauma, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, its only going to get worse, that shit is fucking gross
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeleton_Kid/pseuds/Skeleton_Kid
Summary: Just an angsty fic about Morty dealing with trauma because 80% of the angst fics in this fandom are Rick-centric and Morty deserves to deal with his shit (and not in a very healthy way either because I can only write angst).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So some of yall might have read my other R&M fic and... I wish you hadn't. It had 0 plot and it was just me letting out my emotions without actually making the story interesting. I have more of a plot in mind for this fic- it's going to be more than Morty being a sad little bitch. This bitch is basically a rewrite that ISN'T total garbage. But if it is crap, please tell me. I can't fix what I have done wrong if I'm not aware of what I'm doing wrong.  
> Best regards,  
> -Skeleton

Morty lays in his bed motionless except for his shaking breaths. He hasn't been able to fall asleep tonight. And the night before that. And the night before that. Its not that he can't sleep, its just that when he does sleep his mind plagues him with terrors of what he's seen and done. And whats been done to him.

He sits up abruptly with his breath catching in his throat as phantom hands crawl over his shoulders and waist and a voice murmurs for him to stop being a tease-

Morty is just barely makes it to the toilet to puke his panic away. He gasps for air as quietly as he can between he spills his guts into the ceramic bowl below him. He distantly wonders if anyone is awake to hear his violent retching, he doubts they'd care.

Maybe someone will tell him to shut up, his disgusting vomiting will wake up the whole house. A broken sob involuntary tears its way out of his thoat between heaves and shame washes over him. How dare he cry about his family not caring for him. He has food and a roof over his head- well mostly, sometimes there are nights slept under the stars when Rick drags him on another adventure.

Morty sits back with a huff as he finishes puking. Of course his thoughts go back to Rick. Hes the source for most of his problems. Technically hes at fault for everything because he made Beth and if Beth never existed, there would never be a Morty to traumatize. But sitting around and being sad about the situation will never make things better, Morty thinks as he flushes the toilet and wipes up and any vomit that spilled on the floor. He doesn't look at his reflection as he pours a handful of water into his mouth and swishes it around then spitting it out.

A sharp knock on the door has Morty glaring into the mirror. He recognizes Rick's knock right away.  
"M-Morty if you're done puking like-like some anorexic teen I'd like to take a shit" Ricks voice cuts through the door.

Morty opens the door and walks past Rick without really looking at him. He doesn't care about whatever soul tearing comment Rick has for him fight now. Hes trying to keep his brain from going into a full panic attack, he can internalize Rick's words later when his anxiety subsides into a horrid depression later.

Deciding he isn't going to sleep, Morty walks downstairs and into the kitchen to get some water and maybe a snack. He didn't mean to puke up his dinner like that, but thinking about that fucking jellybean man makes his body physically ill.  
He sighs when he sees that the clock on the microwave reads 3:48AM. Still another two hours before hes supposed to be waking up for school. Plenty of time for a snack and maybe an episode of Ball Fondlers Morty decides. He sits on the couch and turns the tv on, quickly zoning out while munching on a bag of chips. If he can't sleep he might as well turn his brain off as much as he can.

Morty doesn't realize how much time has passed until Summer comes downstairs to get breakfast.

"Jesus Christ, Morty where you down here all night?" She asks, her voice almost accusing.

"No, j-just a few hours."

Summer gives him a concerned look Morty doesn't see because hes still staring blankly forward. "Well get dressed, fuckin' weirdo."

Morty runs a hand through his hair and stands up. He would've started walking into his room but his body decides that now is a good time to completely give up. He feels his body fall forward and Summer shouting something, but he can't understand her as he is already unconcious due the to days without sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self harm in this chapter

"Dad, you can't..... him" A muffled voice from outside his door startles Morty out of his slumber. Its his mom and she sounds almost concerned.

"Whatever... a pussy... " Hes hears only part of Ricks response but he knows hes finding a way to put him down, even when hes not talking to his face.

"Dad!" Beth shouts, almost angry. Her voice becomes quieter and once again and Morty cant even make out what she is saying anymore.

Morty sighs and sits up in his bed. He has to take a piss. But that means leaving his room and having to confront his mom and Rick. He doesn't even know whats going to happen when he sees them. He quickly gets dressed in his normal clothes to give himself the illusion that hes put together.

Bracing himself for the worst he steps out of his room and sees Rick and Beth standing right outside of his door. They both turn and look at him like he just walked in on something he wasn't supposed to.

"Morty!" Beth exclaims. "How are you feeling sweetie?" Her hand immediately goes to his forehead to check his temperature.

"He's not a fucking baby, Beth." Rick sounds annoyed. "K-keep treating him like one and he's going to end up even more stupid"

"Jesus Christ I just have to pee" Morty snaps. He can't fucking stand it when people talk like he isn't there. He pushes past both of them and goes into the bathroom. He can hear them arguing again, but it sounds like they're going downstairs with how it gets slightly quieter.

Morty finishes pissing and leaves the bathroom. Deciding that he doesn't want to deal with whatever stick is up Rick and Beth's ass, he goes back into his room.

Its times like this where Morty truely wishes he had never been born. All he does is cause problems. He always fucks everything up. Adventures. School. His own fucking family. If it wasn't for Morty, things would probably be so much better. 

"Goddamn it" Morty groans in frustration. His hands are shaking again and he can feel his heart going faster and faster. He forces himself to sit on his bed but its too soft. _Soft like the insides of a man, spilling out as Morty shoots him. "Wrong fucking person Morty! Theres only two people here how could you fuck up and shoot the one thing I tell you not to." Morty stares in horror as the innocent man falls to the ground with a wet thud._

 _A_ rough gasp that tears his throat pulls Morty out of his flashback. He somehow ended up on the floor and backed into a corner. He can't breathe. He can't breathe. He cant breathe. A small metal object on the edge of his desk catches his eyes. He still can't fucking breathe. The scissors are in his hands but theyre shaking so badly he cant even open them. He still cant breathe. The scissors are open and he's pressing them into his shoulder as hard as he can and pull them across. The pain doesn't register and Morty's breathes get even shorter. He can't breathe. He can't feel. He cant breathe. He cant breathe. He makes another cut. And another. He still cant breathe and feel.

Why does his body decide to go numb now? He always could feel when he'd get punched and kicked and _pinned down face first on a sink in a bathroom with a voice telling him to just let thid happen. He tries to get him off but hes being thrown into a stall. Morty pleads desperately but hes just called a tease then hands are touching his chest, touching his stomach, touching his crotch-_

_a scream rips out of him then hes punching Mr. Jellybean. But its not Mr. Jellyebean anymore. Its just a gromflomite soldier. Hes begging Morty to stop. He doesn't want to die. But Rick is telling Morty he needs to die and Morty can't say no to Rick. He can't. But the bug stares at him in pure terror. The helplessness in his eyes is a look Morty knows he's worn hundreds of times._

A noise that sounds like a strangled animal tears out of Morty's throat as the pain from the now dozen cuts on his shoulder registers. His panic attack has faded away and Morty is trying not to make any sound but his arms hurt so fucking badly.

Morty reaches under his bed and pulls out a first aid kit, sitting with his back to the door. He hasn't needed it in a while, Rick usually takes care of his injuries, but Rick has never needs to fix this. He can't imagine what Rick would do if he saw Morty like this. 

* * *

The first time Morty intentionally hurt himself, he was 12. A girl in his middle school class was cutting herself and posting it all over social media. Everyone was talking about it. Most people called her an attention whore. She'd sometimes wear short sleeves but would get mad whenever someone pointed out the uniform red lines on her wrist.

Morty got curious. He had heard of people cutting before. He never understood why until he had his first panic attack. He was taking a shower when all of a sudden the only thing he could think was that he was dying and that he couldn't breathe. He saw his dads shaving razor on the counter. Morty remembers his classmate posting pictures of her razors online and something clicks. He grabbed the razor and pulled it across his wrist. He squeaks in shock but hes forgotten all about his panic attack.He could breathe again.

* * *

"Morty what the fuck are you doing?" Morty jumps to his feet and his hand goes immediately to cover his bloody shoulder.

"Rick! W-what a-are-y-y what d-do you want?" Morty stutters out, his breath already hitching in his throat. 

"Morty. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing." Rick sounds pissed. His voice holds no emotion. Morty tenses up, this isn't how this was supposed to go. 

Rick takes a step towards him like he's some sort of wounded, feral animal. Morty tries to back away but his back hits the wall. He's trapped with Rick. Rick just caught him cutting.

"Are you fucking kidding me? I thought maybe you'd take after me and start drinking but this? Morty. What the fuck?" Rick growls. Rage fills Morty. Why does Rick have to make this about him. Why did Rick have to walk in on this.

"Shut the fuck up, Rick" Morty shouts. Immediately both of them freeze, neither of them expecting that outburst. Morty feels his mouth moving again. "You don't get to have a f-fucking opinion about th-this you f-fucking piece of shit!"

"Morty-" Rick starts to say, his voice low.

"No! Don't fucking Morty me!" Morty steps towrds Rick and pushes his chest. Surprisingly, he doesn't defend himself and that just makes Morty even more mad. "Get the fuck out Rick. Whatever bullshit you have to say to me, I don't want to fucking hear it, okay? You always f-fucking have t-to have a fucking say in every-fucking-thing and I don't to h-hear whatever you g-got to say about this!" Morty tries to push Rick again but he just grabs Morty's cut arm and looks it over. "Don't fucking touch me!" Morty tries to pulls away. 

Rick holds Morty's wrist in a death grip as he walks out the room. He pulls Morty behind him who is cussing him out and begging him to let go.

They go into the garage and Rick points at his lab desk. "Just... sit the fuck down."

Morty obeys. He gave up fighting back and just wants whatever is going to happen to be over with. Rick silently goes over to a shelf and pulls off a jar of some goo. He opens the lid, sticks two fingers in then smears it over the cuts. Morty flinches back but the pain is suddenly gone and so are the cuts without a single scar.

"Morty, I know I probably can't stop this but..." Rick closes his eyes and sighs. "Keep the jar incase you need it." He says, sounding defeated which Morty finds very out of character for his usually cocky grandpa.

"Oh... okay." Morty says softly, he doesn't know what to feel. He slides off the desk and stands. "I'm going to, uh go now." He says awkwardly.

He sprints up to his room and slams his door shut, throwing the jar on his desk. Rick knows. Rick fucking knows. Rick knows and he doesn't fucking care. Morty lays down on his bed face first. The tears he's been holding in all day are finally coming out. He hugs a pillow against his face as ragged sobs and gasps pour out of the boy.

By the time Morty is all cried out, he is laying on his side, facing the wall. He's exhausted. For once he doesn't fight it when sleep comes for him. He figured own mind couldn't create a nightmare worse than what just happened but wow, was he wrong.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick takes some time to think about life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM DRUNK, NO BETA, WE RIDE INTO BATTLE LIKE REAL WARRIORS

Rick Sanchez is many things, a genius (obviously), cocky, a murderer, quick witted, perceptive as fuck, he's a piece of shit alcoholic who ~~deserves to fucking die~~ is better than everyone else.

But, when Morty walks out of the garage like a ghost, still covered in his own blood, Rick's mind is completely lost. _How the fuck has he not noticed?_ _He's Rick fucking Sanchez, the smartest goddamn thing in the universe._

Immediately he starts searching his memory for signs of Morty acting weird, but the thing is, Morty is as weird as weird get. Sure, the kid has started wearing long sleeves into the hot weather but Rick is always wearing his long lab coat. Sure, the kid was more quite than usual, not complaining as much during the more _unpleasant_ parts of adventures, but Rick had chalked that up to Morty finally fucking growing a pair. _No, he just is learning how to internalize his trauma. You know what they say, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree._

Rick never has been empathetic. A damn sticker probably offers more emotional support than him. Its just who he is. Rick doesn't like feeling like his time is wasted and, well, emotions are the biggest waste of time there is to him but not to Morty, he supposes, Morty is very emotional. The kid cries whenever a dog dies in a movie, it's just his nature to be empathetic.

Rick pulls his flask from his jacket, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink. This kid is going to be the death of him. Morty's angry words flash through his mind- " _You don't get to have an opinion about this"-_ and it hits him. Rick has never seen Morty's shoulders- _or come to think about it, he's never seen the kid's legs. There could be a grisly mess underneath his pants._ Yeah, there was the simulation but he doubted those Zigerion dumbasses put enough time in to simulate his grandsons self inflicted injuries.

But for all Rick knows, this has been going on for longer than he's known the kid and the thought makes a strange knot form in his stomach. He downs more of his flask's contents in vain, nothing short of suicide will stop his mind from focusing on the fact that Morty is already taking after him in the worst of ways. 

He knows just how good it feels to cause yourself pain. Rick has his own collection of self inflicted scars, like the cigarette burns on his inner thigh or the cut on the back of his left forearm that he made just so he could watch his own blood, _just so he could remind himself that he is alive_. Sometimes alcohol and blood are the best ways to keep yourself alive, God it never was a healthy thing but it kept Rick from blowing his brains out.

But knowing that Morty is already half way to being _just fucking like_ him makes Rick nauseous in a way he's never felt before. He can't fucking stand this new feeling so he decides to do what he always does, just ignore it.

Feeling as Rick as ever, he grabs his portal gun and opens up a portal to cheapest bar he can think of. He needs to get wasted, he needs to forget, he needs to pretend nothing at all is happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rick: *stares at his hands*  
> Rick: is this... is this empathy? thanks! i hate it!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty has a nightmare. Something more sinister is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw. Rape

"How are you today? I'm Mr. Jellybean!" A friendly voice muses behind Morty. Morty turns around frantically _\- how the fuck did he end up in that bathroom-_ and standing less than three feet away was _him,_ Mr. Jellybean. Ice floods his veins and Morty wants nothing more than to run, to scream, to fight back, but all he does is stand there gawking at the figure which seemed to tower over him- _was he always that tall?_

"Please, no..." Morty manages to whimper as a sticky blue-grey hand wraps around his arm, pulling the shaking boy closer - _why can't I fucking move_ \- and stroking his already tear-soaked face.

The bean pouts, "But you're my sweet little bitch, my toy." He says like a kid being told vacation was canceled. His voice suddenly becomes enthusiastic. "I guess I just I have to remind you what you are."

Before he can do anything, Morty is shoved to the floor and is flipped onto his stomach. His thighs are roughly spread open _-why am I naked-_ and he feels the Jellybean's penis slam into him--

Morty sits up in his bed immediately clamping his hand over his mouth to stop the shuddering sobs that had already started in his sleep. His eyes dart around his dark bedroom (its already night, an entire fucking day was wasted in bed) , ~~terrified of the shadows~~ terrified of what might be lurking.

 _It was just a dream. He can't hurt you again, its just a dream._ But his mind reminds him that though it was warped, it was real. Morty pulls his knees to his chest, rocking slightly. _Sloppy licks and kisses on his neck, fingers pulling his hair, hands on his hips, his thighs, his penis, his chest, nothing was off limits. The violating hands had nothing, absolutely nothing on the cock in his ass, moving in and out with an unbearable force._ _Somewhere through his tears Morty begs, begs for a God he never had faith in, begs for Rick to come save him, he begs for death. But the only answer he gets is the Jellybean biting his ear and whispering horrible things._

_Finally, finally, the Jellybean comes. As soon as the semen sprays into him, Morty truely understands what Rick means when he says there is no God._

_As soon as the jellybean leaves, Morty simply pulls his pants up and limps out of the stall. Rick can never find out about this. He stares at himself in the filthy mirror and realizes that there is no way he can hide this. Filthy hickeys line his neck, his shaking fingers brush over them as if he was checking to see if they were real. His wrists were also bruised, almost completely chafed raw from being grabbed. Morty dared to look in his eyes and thats when the nausea takes over and he's vomiting into the sink below him as he gasps for air. His pupils were dilated, blown huge, bit other than that he saw nothing. Just a tired, pathetic boy covered in someone else's filth with nothing in his eyes. He keeps vomiting until he's gagging, then the door to the bathroom slams open with Rick waltzing in, looking annoyed. He takes one look at Morty and his expression drops._

_"What the fuck, Morty? Wh-who the fuck did this?" He shouts before the boy has a chance to try and explain. Rick only needed to look at him for a couple seconds to see that his grandson had been tainted in a way that not even_ he _could fix. Morty just stares at the ground, quietly begging to go home, and surprisingly, Rick opens a portal right up and they're in the garage in seconds. Morty wishes he could feel safe now, but instead he feels himself numbly walk into the bathroom and turning the shower on as hot as it possibly can go. He doesn't know if Rick said anything else to him. His ears started ringing at some point and he doesn't feel real anymore._

Morty snaps out of the flashback but he remains deathly still, sitting with his knees pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. Sweat rolls down his neck and his breaths are short and scared.

He doesn't know how long he sits shaking in the dark. Like so many nights before, Morty feels utterly and horribly alone and scared.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gets a phone call. Morty has someone on his team.

A whole week and a half.

Thats how fucking long Rick has been avoiding his grandson and the entire time was spent in a drug, alcohol and sex filled daze on so many planets, so many worlds. He did everything he could to try and get Morty's face when Rick had walked in on him cutting himself out of his head but no amount of liquor could wipe the pure _panic and distrust_ in his grandsons eyes. _It makes sense. The kid thinks you're a fucking monster._

Rick swallows down a full glass of whiskey as soon as the bartender hands it to him, savoring the distraction the burn alcohol brought (he lost count of how much he's drank, his tab is very high). He wants to punch something, or maybe be punched. So thats what Rick does, walking up to the most dangerous looking creature there and punching it as hard as he can and screaming some sort of insult. The beating is instant and it hurts exactly how Rick wants it to.

Eventually he's dragged outside by someone- maybe a bouncer- and now hes sitting in the front seat of his ship trying to fix his broken nose and drink from his flask at the same time.

Suddenly, he hears that interdimensional phone he used to call Summer from that purge planet ringing. _What the the actual fuck?_ And he's drunk enough that he doesn't think twice about answering.

"Wh-what the fuck do you want" Rick slurs out.

"Grandpa Rick, you need to get your fucking ass home right fucking now." Summer's voice cuts through, sounding dangerously calm for how hostile her words are.

"Suuuummer, Sum-Sum, Summy, whats up? You need to beg me to about helping with school? How many times do I gotta tell you school doesn't ma-" Rick starts to rant, but hes effectively cut off by Summer yelling on the other line.

"DAMN IT RICK, CUT THE SHIT!" A deep breath and sigh is audible, "Morty and Mom are a fucking mess right now and I can't be held responsible for them!" Summer's voice is shaking like she's holding back tears and that, for some reason, really gets to Rick right now.

"N-no, Sum-sum, don't cry, grandpa Rick is just- burp- joking, I can help with you're homework." Rick says in that almost-actually-sympathetic-but-still-patronizing way of his. _God am I fucking drunk._

Summer sighs loudly. "What the fuck are you talking about," she mutters, then her voice is incredibly hard, her usual teenage sass gone as she speaks again. "Rick, I know you found out Morty cuts himself up. Stop being a little bitch about it and come home. It's fucking killing him to be alone again, I don't know how to be his best friend!" Her voice breaks at the end then she clears her throat before continuing. "And Mom's been talking to Jerry again. She can't stand being alone either. So just get you're goddamn ass home."

"Jerry fucking sucks." Rick says before hanging up on Summer.

* * *

Morty walks into the living room looking to find something to zone out to and immediately stops in the doorway. Sitting on the couch is his mom- Beth- with her knees to her chest watching Ball Fondlers and crying softly with a bottle of wine in her hand. Despite his mind _screaming_ at him to go back to his room, he walks over to the couch, opposite side his mom is sitting on, and takes a seat. Morty reaches his hand towards Beth's closest hand, which happens to be free, and grabs it gently. Her entire body tenses for a moment then she squeezes her sons hand back before letting go of it, not looking at him but her tears come more quickly now.

"I love you, Mom." Morty whispers before standing up and walking into the kitchen, he suddenly can't breathe and needs to be alone. Everything was always so much better when Morth Smith is alone. Nobody to rely on, nobody to disappoint (or be disappointed by) and most importantly, you can't be hurt by being alone, right? Before Rick came into his life, all Morty had to deal with was bullies and his own depression. Now he's pretty sure he has full blown PTSD and he feels like a ghost now more than ever. What a great tradeoff for friendship. 

Morty feels his legs give out from under him so he just sits in the middle of the kitchen floor with his arms wrapped around his knees which are pulled to his chest. He hates crying so fucking much, but the tears just suddenly appeared and they aren't going away.

"I don't want to be alone." Morty whispers to himself so quietly he cant hear. Now he's sobbing loudly and thats the last thing he wants _because someone might hear him and come into the room, or even worse he'll be ignored_ but the tears just keep coming.

The sound of footsteps cause Morty to scramble to his feet and aggressively swipe at his eyes to get rid of the tears but it's too late. Standing in the doorway is Summer, looking like she had just been crying herself.

"Man, you look like crap." Morty says, with a tiny, forced smile.

"You must be talking to a mirror because the only crap I see here is you," she replies walking over to her little brother and pulling him into a rare hug. Morty tenses for a second but quickly returns the gesture, holding her tightly with his shaking arms. 

They pull away from eachother after a few seconds and Morty says as casually as he can, "I was gonna m-make myself pasta or soemthing, s-since you know, M-mom probably won't be making dinner again. Y-you want some?"

"I'll do you one better and help you." She replies turning to a cupboard to grab a pot.

And so the siblings spend the next twenty minutes or so waiting for the water to boil, then for the spaghetti to cook, draining the water out then arguing about weather or not the tomato sauce should be poured into the pot with the pasta or not.

"N-no, it has to be separate because I like adding a certain amount to mine!" Morty yells as he tries to stop Summer from pouring the whole damn jar into the pot.

"It doesn't fucking matter! Plus, this makes sure all the noodles get covered by the sauce." Summer tries to get her arm over Morty's head so she can dump out the sauce.

Morty grabs her wrist before she can rotate it. "Yes it doe-" His voice is cut off by the entire jar spilling on top of his head.

Time seems to stop for hours as Summer looks at the dripping jar in her hand then down to her drenched brother and as Morty realizes that he just took a shower for the first time in five days and it wasn't even with water. The very thought is so hysterical that a small laugh falls out of his throat, then Summer starts giggling and all of a sudden both of them are laughing so hard their bent over which causes more pasta to fall off of Morty's head and they're laughing even harder (Morty doesn't even remember when he last laughed, let alone laughing this hard).

"Well, I guess we are just having pastaless spaghetti." Summer gets out as she tries to regain her composure. "You should go take a shower real fast before you're hair is dyed red. That is so not you're color."

Morty doesnt have to be told twice and he bounds up the stairs and grabs a pair of clothes from his room that isn't covered in tomato sauce then hops into the shower. Ten minutes later he's back in the kitchen where Summer has already cleaned up any mess left from their tussle and has dumped a shit ton of cheese in. "Now it's just improvised mac n cheese." She says proudly. "Horrible for the waistline, great for your tastebuds."

Morty smiles at that and sets plates and forks at the table and he goes to the livingroom where Beth is still staring blankly at the TV. He gently touches her shoulder and she looks at her son with teary eyes. It feels like all the air in Morty's body left him but he still manages to say, "come eat dinner with us, mom," and to his surprise Beth stands up and goes into the dining room with him.

The three of them eat dinner in total silence but if Morty closes his eyes he could pretend that they're a normal, happy family. But they aren't a happy or normal. Beth is slowly drinking herself to death, Summer is clearly losing her mind trying to keep what's left of her family together and Morty is ripping himself to pieces physically and emotionally. The brief happiness he felt leaves him and so does his appetite. He stands up with barely half his plate empty.

"I'm going to go to my room now." He mutters.

"Morty, you've hardly eaten baby." Beth suddenly whispers causing Morty to freeze. "You've gotten so thin, I can't have you disappear too." She squeezes her eyes shut and a few tears leak out.

Morty numbly sits down, he thinks he says something in response but everything sounds like static because his mom _sounded just that broken_ and he can't stand being part of breaking her. He robotically clears his plate while staring blankly forward. How can he be so selfish and try to waste food like this.

He's so lost in his mind that he doesn't hear the space ship sounds approaching or the sound of the garage opening, or the garage door slamming shut. He doesn't hear his mom dropping her fork or Summer saying something but he sees her standing up and looking toward the garage door- it all clicks into place and Morty quickly stands, looking over where Rick is standing, looking very sober for once in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we don't reslly get to see their one on one dynamic in depth in the show, like ever, i decided to give Summer and Morty some love


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably mention this fic takes place somewhere in season 3
> 
> also, this loosely 3rd person limited between Rick and Morty so don't be surprised by the alternate perspectives.
> 
> I don't really like this chapter but its important for future chapters, ya know?

For a few minutes, nobody says anything. It's just a stare off between Rick and the rest of the house.

The first to react- unsurprisingly- is Beth. Her reaction on the other hand, shocks everyone. She stands up, walks up to Rick and slaps him in the face. Morty feels his blood turn to ice, his mind screaming _don't shoot my mom. Don't shoot my mom. Don't shoot my mom. Don't shoot-_

"You promised!" She shouts through tears, breaking Morty out of his terror. "You fucking promised you wouldn't leave again!" She sobs slightly, her hands tight fists at her side.

Rick just stares at her, shocked that Beth of all people hit him. This is the first time he ever saw her mad at him, actually mad. Once again, he's at a complete loss of what to do.

"I deserved that. I'm s-sorry I left again." He says, looking his daughter in her tearfilled eyes (why is she the only person he can apologize to with ease?). "I wasn't expecting to be gone so long." He turns looking to Morty, who looks more pissed than Beth, but he also looks _petrified._ "M-Morty, we need to talk. Come into the garage when you're ready."

Dread fills Morty's chest. Rick never requests things, but here he his, acting like this? There is nothing good that will come out of this. Somewhere on his head, he hears _"I'm about to die, aren't I?"_ But he shoves it down. 

He silently stands up from the table and follows Rick into the garage, walking past his mom who is still standing with her fists clenched and shaking, but her head is down and shes crying again, quietly. _What the fuck is wrong with this family? Why is it so fucked up?_

Rick closes the garage door behind him, then takes a deep breath. "Morty, I'm sorry."

Morty completely freezes, the dread in his chest growing more and more. "What?" He asks, his voice so small he isn't sure Rick hears him.

"I said that I'm sorry? What, are you deaf now?" Rick responds flatly and Morty finds himself flinching.

"You... you're sorry?" He whispers. "You? Rick, sorry?" Suddenly he laughs. It comes out high and hysterical. "Yeah, and whats next, you're going to say you like Jerry."

"Morty-"

Morty cuts Rick off by continuing to laugh hysterically. _This isn't real. He's probably trying to get my guard down so he can fucking shoot me._ "I know I'm an idiot but how stupid do you think I am?" He keeps laughing. He's about to die but he just can't stop laughing, how poetic.

"What the fuck are you on about, Morty?" Rick says, feeling almost nervous. He expected the kid to be mad, or super mopey or even happy about the apology. But instead, he thinks he broke the damn kid. 

His grandson looks up at him, eyes wide. "You're not sorry, Rick. You've never been sorry in your life." He says, all laugter suddenly gone. Anger flushes through Rick, he's fucking trying to be a nice person here.

"You don't know what you're talking about Morty." He snaps, suddenly not feeling very apologetic anymore.

"Yeah, of course I don't." The kid snaps. "I never fucking know what I'm talking about, I'm just a dumbass Morty that just says stupid shit 24/7. I fucking get it Rick." He shakes his head and laughs a little again. "I'm just a disposable Morty, thats why you brought me here, right? Didn't want to slaughter me in front of my family, huh? You'd rather do it quietly then replace me with a Morty that isn't so fucking useless?" Morty spreads his arms eagle stlye and glares at Rick. "So fucking do it! _I don't care anymore._ I just want this over with."

To say he's shocked would be a lie. Rick know Morty is suicidal, but that still doesn't stop the pang of guilt in his chest. "Are you fucking kidding me, Morty?" He steps towards the kid who immediately flinches back. "You- you think I'd kill you because of," he gestures to Morty's arms (which are covered by long sleeves), "this?" Rick shakes his head. "Morty, I don't want to fucking replace you, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Morty stares at Rick for a long time before speaking again. Of course he thought he was about to die, Rick never acts like this. He never apologizes, never in a way that matters. "Do you even know what you're sorry for? Or are you just trying to get me to pretend I'm fine?"

"Goddamn it Morty." Rick pinches the bridge of his nose. "I... I'm sorry I expected you to be okay. Not even I can handle the universe and how fucked it is, how could I think _you_ could handle it?"

Morty stays silent, opting to stare at the floor, so Rick continues. "I admit it. I'm an absolute dumbass for trying to let you cope alone. I should have tried something when I'd hear you having nightmares."

Morty looks up, his face flushing red. "You heard them?" He says quietly and shamefully.

"Morty, you cry in your sleep every time you actually sleep. Well, at least you started crying after that time in the bar." As soon as Rick brings it up, he knows he fucked up. Morty recoils almost violently, his breaths growing quick. "I'm such a fucking idiot, Morty. I knew what happened and I thought you could deal with it alone." 

Morty had stopped listening as soon as the bar was brought up, his mind flashing images of him being attacked again. _Hands everywhere, so much pain. So much fear. Words, horrible words etched into his brain forever- "slut", "whore", "bitch", "toy", "faggot"- repeat over and over._

"-orty! You need to breathe!" He hears distantly. Hands are on his shoulders but they're not pressing him into the floor, instead they are gentle. Morty opens his eyes (when had they shut?) and he finds himself not in a bathroom, but in the garage with Rick holding his shoulders intensely.

"It was my fault!" Morty croaks out, his voice shaking. "I couldn't- I-I-I was too weak- I couldn't stop him." His legs start to wobble under him, he can barely stand.

"Morty, look at me." Morty hesitantly looks Rick in his eyes, which are unusually soft. "That fucker? That sick son of a bitch? He's the only one to blame. It doesn't matter how strong you are, anyone can get raped, Morty."

Morty flinches at the 'r' word, his entire body shaking even more than it was before. Logically, he knows it wasnt his fault. But his damn mind tells him that he could've done so much more to stop it.

"Morty. You need to say it." Rick still hold his shoulders (thats the only thing keeping him standing).

"What?"

"Say that it wasn't your fault."

"But-"

"Morty, what happened was NOT your fault."

His voice monotone, he says it. "It wasn't my fault."

"What wasn't your fault?"

Morty tenses up and pulls away from Rick and whispers "please don't make me say it."

Rick knows he stepped over a line (maybe he's stepped over a few lines). "Okay. You don't have to say it. But I need you to know that what happened, what that sick fuck did, was not your fault."

Morty nods robotically. "Yeah."

"You know I would do anything to take back what happened to you, right?"

Another robotic nod. "Yeah."

God, when did the kid become so hollow? An irrational thought comes into Ricks head (okay, maybe this entire interaction was irrational but mental health doesn't follow a code) and he acts on it.

He hugs Morty, and shockingly enough, Morty hugs him back with shaking arms after initially tensing at the sudden touch, sinking into Ricks chest.

Rick decides to ignore it when he realizes Morty is silently crying on him. Sure the dampness on his chest is annoying but the kid needs an adult to actually give a fuck about him right now.

So the two of them just stand in the garage silent, except when Morty sniffles quietly, arms locked tight around eachother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably OOC but Rick doesn't know how to deal with mental health, so I imagine he'd be completely lost in these situations and would fuck up a lot despite meaning well for once.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morty has a nightmare and a few ideas

Morty knew, deep down, that Rick would stop caring after a while. He counted the days, it was four to be exact. Those four days were absolutely lovely though. Rick actually asked him how he was, they didn't go on any adventures (unless going to Blitz n Chitz counts) and he got some sleep for once.

Then, as Morty expected, everything went back to normal. They went on adventures, they killed and were almost killed, they made jokes and saw planets that Morty would've never even dreamed of before he met Rick.

On one hand, it was a relief that Rick acted like his grandson hadn't broken down in his garage just days before, but on the other it hurt like a motherfucker. Morty knew that he couldn't do that again. He was positive that he never wanted to cry in front of Rick again.

Another thing that messed with Morty was how fast his mom was able to forgive Rick. After he gave some bullshit explanation for leaving without telling anyone and Beth bought it with no question. (She had to know at some level it was bullshit, but she's desperate for Rick's attention so of course she ignored any logic)

So yeah, everything was back to normal. And it doesn't take long for the nightmares to crawl their way back because those have been the norm for Morty since he met Rick.

The dream started off nice. It was his entire family; Rick, Beth, Summer, Jerry and his parents even the dude that cucked his grandpa was there (for some fucking reason), just having a picnic in a park. Everyone was happy, even Rick.

Then, the ground wasn't the ground anymore, it was a mouth.

Morty screamed and crawled backwards from where he sat, getting away from the gaping hole in the ground.

But nobody else moved, his family just sat there lauging and talking. Morty tried to yell at them to get away but he couldn't make a sound. He could only watch in horror as the mouth began to shut, the large, sharp teeth resembling a cage.

All Morty could do is watch as his entire family got eaten in front of him. And the worst part? They didn't even acknowledge it. They just let it happen.

Morty sits up in his bed, panting like he ran a mile. His mind screaming at him to run. He doesn't know from what but he knows he needs to get away.

Morty quickly scrambles out of bed and leaves his room. It's too stuffy in there, he needs _out._ He goes to the kitchen, his body moving faster than his mind.

His brain is too loud. The house is completely silent, yet there is too much noise. It's all too much, the clothes on his back, the hair in his lungs. Even his own heartbeat is overwhelming him.

He tries drinking a glass of water, but he drops the cup before he can fill it, causing it to shatter all over the floor. His breath hitches at the sudden sound and he clutches the counter to avoid collapsing. 

Yeah, recovering from nightmares hes never been one of Morty's skills. 

Then, an idea pops into his head that, in his haze of panic, he sees no downside to. He finds himself opening his moms liquor cabinet. These days it's mostly empty, but theres an almost full bottle of scotch and Morty picks it up with no hesitation.

He walks back to his room, holding the bottle by the neck, completely forgetting the broken glass on the kitchen floor.

-

The next morning, Morty wakes up with a headache that hurts worse than when both his legs broke and absolutely no memory of the night before. He can vaguely remember a nightmare and going downstairs but beyond that, there is absolutely nothing.

And that absolutely terrifies him.

Immediately he sits up, checking himself for injuries. Morty looks at his arms and a chill runs down his spine because they are _absolutely mutilated_ and he has no memory of doing anything.

Panic fills his mind and he scrambles out of bed, grabbing the first aid kid from under his bed. Most of the cuts have scabbed over but there are good bit still bleeding, blood moving out in sluggish streams. He slaps some bandaids on the cuts and lays flat on the floor with a sigh. His head fucking _hurts_ like a motherfucker.

What the fuck happened last night?

For a while, Morty just lays on his floor. His head and arms are throbbing in pain and he frankly doesn't want to deal with it, so he doesn't. Eventually his phone alarm goes off and he remembers that he is supposed to go to school because it's what.. Tuesday now?

Groaning, Morty sits up to get ready but his headache worsens with the movement so he falls right back down before he's even up. He does not what to do anything today.

Eventually Morty pulls himself to his feet and gets dressed in his usual attire plus a long sleeved white shirt underneath to conceal the bloody mess on his arms.

Soon enough hes at school, not paying attention because whats the fucking point? Rick is eventually going to pull him out of class and take him on some crazy adventure; school is the least on his concerns right now, so he ends up just doodling in his notebook instead of actually taking notes. It's not like Mr. Goldenfold would notice or care.

Why the hell was he even enrolled in school anymore anyways? He spends more time out of class than in, his grades are horrible. Most kids would've been expelled by now, right? He wonders if the school actually even notices his existence. Then, he gets an idea. He stands up and just walks out of the room. Mr. Goldenfold stops talking to the class briefly to just stare at Morty but quickly resumes "teaching".

So now Morty is just walking through the school hallways, making his was to one of those back exits schools always have- not that it matters, Morty could walk right out the front doors and nobody would give a shit. Eventually he makes it to some door and walks out the school.

It's time that Morty took a day for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been literally a month since i updated this, but i have had some crazy shit happening in my life and didn have time to think about this.  
>  im gonna try to update for frequently now that the shit has settled

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback. I am but a dumbass who tries her best.


End file.
